Suwannee River
Excerpt from Florida’s Rivers: A Celebration of Over 40 of the Sunshine State’s Dynamic Waterways by Doug Alderson, published by Pineapple Press in 2021
Suwannee
“Having supplied ourselves with ammunition and provision, we set off in the cool of the morning, and descended pleasantly, riding on the crystal flood, which flows down with an easy, gentle, yet active current, rolling over its silvery bed. The stream almost as transparent as the air we breathe; there is nothing done in secret except on its green flowery verges.” —William Bartram, 1773, commenting on a clear Suwannee River
The Suwannee is a hybrid river that defies categorization. During normal water levels, it is a tannin waterway fed by both the vast Okefenokee Swamp—one of the Southeast’s largest wetlands—and numerous springs. In fact, the Suwannee basin is believed to have the largest concentration of freshwater springs in the world and during severe droughts, the river flow consists almost entirely of clear spring water. During high water or flood stage, the springs are usually inundated and can actually reverse flow, taking in river water instead of pumping out groundwater. During these times, the river carries large volumes of sediments, so it takes on alluvial characteristics.
The Suwannee at low water is perhaps the most scenic, with numerous limestone bluffs and even small caves visible in places. Shoals that are normally inundated, such as below Ellaville, can produce excitement for paddlers and boaters, and the springs alongside the river have the best clarity. The current can be sluggish, however, and there might be sandbars just under the surface that can temporarily halt forward progress.
In springtime, the Big Shoals just above White Springs is often at the ideal water level to test your skills at running Florida’s largest whitewater rapids. The river drops nine feet in a quarter mile. When the river gauge is between 55 and 61 feet at White Springs, Big Shoals is the Sunshine State’s only class three rapids. A good portage trail runs alongside the shoals for those not willing to tempt it or when water levels are too low.
The beauty of the Suwannee for paddlers is that it has everything—wild beauty, history, shoals, springs and river camps. Yes, you can stay in screened pavilions with ceiling fans with access to restrooms and hot showers. Nowhere else in the state can you get such a deal. There are five river camps only accessible from the water and in some cases by hiking trail and they were designed by state and local partners to promote eco-tourism and to reduce the impacts of shoreline camping. In places where there are no river camps, you can access state parks or private campgrounds or camp in riverside parks such as in Branford. The Suwannee is usually on every new paddler’s bucket list and is ideally suited for multi-day trips.
Before any trip down the Suwannee, seek to grasp some of the river’s storied history because reminders of the past are still visible in key locations. The river is a meandering history museum, the Suwannee a busier place in the past than it is today.
Small wood-burning sternwheelers once shipped cotton, tobacco, peanuts, naval stores, lumber and cedar logs on the river. The queen of the fleet was the Belle of the Suwannee, captained by Robert Bartlett. Another boat, the Madison, carried mail and served as a floating trading post during a time when roads were sometimes impassable. During the Civil War, Confederates converted the boat into a makeshift gun boat but eventually scuttled it in Troy Spring lest it fall into Union hands. The lower ribs, keel and metal spikes of the ship are still visible in the spring run, so make sure you bring a mask and snorkel when visiting Troy Spring and the river’s many other springs.
A vibrant tourism industry once centered around the Suwannee’s many mineral springs.
White Sulphur Springs was the first Florida mineral spring to be commercialized, initially featured as Jackson Springs in 1831. A log cabin springhouse was built, followed by a concrete and coquina structure in 1903. The spring attraction gave rise to the town, and by the 1880s visitors could choose from 500 hotel and boardinghouse rooms. Today, White Springs is a mere shell of its former vitality, although one can visit the reconstructed spring house, minus the sitting platforms.
When floating past White Springs, the carillon bell tower in Stephen Foster Folk Culture Center State Park plays Foster’s popular tunes, especially his 1851 Way Down Upon the Suwannee River, even though the songwriter never cast eyes upon the waterway. It is one reason author Cecile Hulse Matschat wrote in Suwannee River: Strange Green Land in 1938: “Of all the rivers in America the Suwannee is the most romantic. It has a place beside the royal rivers of the world, though no New York, Paris, or London sprawls along its banks, and no torrential cataract appears in its course to challenge Niagara.”
Downstream from White Springs, Suwannee Springs was once a major health resort from the Civil War to the 1920s. The spring area had a succession of four hotels, a bathhouse and several cottages. A spur line along the Savannah, Florida and Western Railway brought thousands of visitors annually, lured by promises of healing waters that could cure everything from kidney troubles to nervous prostration. The resort faded with the railroad, and the last hotel burned in 1925. Only ruins of the complex remain, but the springs itself is now public property. Visitors can swim inside the original stone walls of the bathhouse and discover for themselves if the spring water, which smells like a lost Easter egg, can cure what ails them.
As water from Suwannee Springs enters the river, it resembles J. R. Motte’s account in the winter of 1836 as a surgeon in the Second Seminole War: “The Suwannee Mineral Springs is a remarkable sight; it issues from the Eastern bank of the Suwannee; the spring and the river mingling their waters together and imparting to that of the river its yellow colour half way across and a considerable distance downstream, and depositing upon all the surrounding rocks Sulphur in sufficient quantity to make their yellow colour apparent at a great distance.”
A smattering of other springs bubble forth in this upper half of the river, and there are also rapids at certain water levels other than Big Shoals. In 1881, author Kirk Munroe began a 1,600-mile journey in a 14-foot sailing canoe at Ellaville, just below the confluence of the Withlacoochee River. Almost immediately, he encountered trouble. “Left Ellaville at 7 o’clock, rainy and thick fog,” he began in his journal. “Canoe very deeply laden. A mile below town ran three rapids—foundered in second, had to jump overboard to save canoe from upset. Shipped considerable water and got blankets wet. Went into camp five miles down Suwannee River on left bank. Sun came out and I hung everything out to dry. Stayed quietly in camp all day. Very wild country and have not seen a human being either on river or shore.”
Munroe finished the Suwannee portion of his journey without further incident, replenishing supplies by purchasing milk and sweet potatoes from river residents and hunting squirrels.
Several rivers flow into the Suwannee in the upper reaches—the Alapaha and the Withlacoochee. The Withlacoochee--often confused with the river by the same name in central Florida that flows into the Gulf—has springs and also shoals at the right water levels. The Alapaha, on the other hand, swirls underground in dramatic fashion only to emerge again just before meeting the Suwannee. Another major tributary is the Santa Fe River, described in more detail in the spring-fed rivers section.
Near Branford, the Suwannee becomes broader and large springs are more numerous. They make an already picturesque river seem like a many-jeweled necklace. About 260 freshwater springs dot the Suwannee River basin, pumping more than 2.8 billion gallons of water a day. Dubbed the Springs Heartland, it is one of the largest concentrations of freshwater springs in the world. They are ideal cooling off spots when paddling in warm weather.
Just below Fanning Springs along Highway 19, the Suwannee passes the largest remaining unaltered tract of hardwood forest in the Suwannee River basin. It is part of the 3,500-acre Andrews Wildlife Management Area. Early loggers mainly focused on the area’s virgin cypress and floated them to sawmills via the river highway, leaving other old-growth species untouched in the Andrews tract.
From the virgin hardwood forest, the Suwannee makes its way past the final large spring along the river—Manatee Springs. This region was home to the Seminole village of Talahasochte, one that William Bartram visited in 1773. Bartram provided a detailed glimpse of early Seminole life, and he was especially impressed with their canoes. “These Indians have large handsome canoes, which they form out of the trunks of Cypress trees (Cupressus disticha), some of them commodious enough to accommodate twenty or thirty warriors,” he wrote. “In those large canoes they descend the river on trading and hunting expeditions to the sea coast, neighboring islands and keys, quite to the point of Florida, and sometimes cross the Gulf, extending their navigations to the Bahama islands and even to Cuba: a crew of the adventurers had just arrived, having returned from Cuba but a few days before our arrival, with a cargo of spirituous liquors, Coffee, Sugar, and Tobacco.” In return, the Seminoles traded deerskins, furs, dried fish, beeswax, honey, bear’s oil and other items.
The downfall of the Seminoles along the Suwannee began in 1818 when Andrew Jackson and a huge force of regulars, Tennessee volunteers, Georgia militia and Creek Indian allies attacked villages of Indians and escaped slaves downstream at Old Town. The Seminoles dispersed but eventually returned, prompting the building of Fort Fanning near Fanning Springs during the Second Seminole War in 1838. The fort guarded a key river crossing and was a base for operations to clear out Seminoles in the region. Most Indians were eventually deported to Oklahoma while a small band ultimately survived in a swamp even deeper and wilder than Okefenokee—the Everglades.
After Manatee Springs, the Suwannee makes its final run to the Gulf of Mexico, passing through the Lower Suwannee National Wildlife Refuge. The wide river mouth boasts expansive watery vistas, marsh-lined tidal creeks and small tree-covered islands. This is where the Suwannee releases freshwater and nutrients—its lifeblood—to a hungry Gulf. In return, the river takes in mullet, sturgeon, manatee and a host of other aquatic life forms. The Suwannee provides cold weather sanctuary for these creatures along with spawning and feeding areas. It is an age-old exchange unaffected by man-made dams or structures.
This lower Suwannee region boasts a rich pirate history, as described by the Florida Writer’s Project in 1939: “In the early 1780’s pirate craft made their rendezvous among the secluded inlets and bays of Suwannee Sound; tales of murder and buried treasure persist to this day. Expeditions have been outfitted, stock companies organized, and countless excavations made to recover hidden stores of gold, the whereabouts of which have been learned, as convention requires, from old maps, or the lips of dying sailors; no successful quests have been recorded, however.”
In order to protect the Suwannee’s many unique qualities, the Suwannee River Water Management District has been purchasing land and development rights from willing landowners. Plus, several state and local parks have been added in the past quarter century. It is an impressive feat when considering the conservation history of the 1970s, when local opposition defeated several federal attempts to protect the Suwannee through the national wild and scenic rivers program. The land purchases are helping to protect the river and make any river journey more enjoyable.
Suwannee Water
Touching the Suwannee
I feel her many springs
Her cypress and limestone
Shoals and high banks.
Touching the Suwannee
I sense her rich history
Dugouts and river boats
Mineral spas and bluegrass.
Touching the Suwannee
I know her troubles
And wonder what people will feel
When they touch the Suwannee
A century from now.